


Visiting Godric's Hollow

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Gen, Godric's Hollow, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: Harry and Albus visit Godric’s Hollow a little while after the events of Albus’s fourth year. It’s the first time they’ve visited together, apart from that night, and it’s full of memories for them both.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In the play Albus says Harry tried to take him to visit Godric’s Hollow a few times but he always refused. I couldn’t help but imagine them visiting together once they’ve had a go at repairing their relationship. 
> 
> Beta'd by brief_and_dreamy.

Being back in Godric's Hollow feels like stepping into a memory. A slightly strange, warped memory, because the only other time Albus saw it by daylight was in 1981. It's different now, a lot busier, and it looks more mundane and ordinary now he isn't terrified senseless and now it isn't sprinkled with a sugar fine coating of snow. 

For a moment neither of them moves from the spot in the rain soaked alley where they've appeared. Overhead the sky is overcast and grey, heavy clouds forming into a dense blanket, and it looks like it might rain again soon. There's a stiff, chilly breeze whipping crisp brown leaves down the street, and they both pull their coats tighter round themselves. 

"Where do we go first?" Albus asks, looking across at his dad who is staring around at the village, taking it in.

"It's changed a bit," Harry says. "Since last time we were here. Funny how much can change in a couple of years."

"When we got back last time it was dark," Albus says, digging his hands into his pockets. "But it's not like when you were little... There are more cars now. More people."

"Apparently people come here for the market. And for holidays. Although the idea of coming on holiday here..." Harry shakes his head.

"It's weird," Albus agrees. 

For a moment longer they stand there, looking up at the thatched cottages on either side of them, then Harry takes a breath. 

"Well... Maybe we should start with the church?" 

"St Jerome's," Albus says, setting off beside him. "Do you think it'll be different inside? It's been nearly..." He trails off, trying to work it out in his head.

"Far too many years," Harry says.

Albus glances up at him with a sly little grin. "You're getting old."

Harry sighs heavily. "Your Uncle Ron thinks I'm starting to go grey." 

"Isn't that from having to put up with me and James and Lily though?" 

Harry glances at him, grinning. "You said it, not me."

They walk through the village together in good spirits. Albus had been buzzing with nerves earlier, but now they're here that's beginning to go away a bit. It isn't like anything will be different between them, being here, and at home things have been going well. This will only be difficult because it's that sort of place. Full of history and pain.

They skirt around the central square where Albus knows the statue is. He cranes to catch sight of it but it's too far away down the street. 

"Are we not going to...?" He gestures off towards it.

"I thought... The church is a bit easier," Harry says, slightly hesitant. "It seems like a good place to start?" 

Albus nudges him lightly, reassuringly. "We can go where you want, Dad. I'd like to see it though. A-and the graves and... Everything." 

"Maybe we should go to the graves first," Harry says. "You know, while it's not raining. It would be miserable in the rain. And it'd be good to get it out of the way."

Albus nods. "Okay. Okay, well let's do that then."

They go through the kissing gate into the churchyard. St Jerome's looks smaller by day, or maybe it's just that Albus is older now and less scared. It's not much more than a collection of grey, moss covered stones, slate roof tiles, and beautifully stained windows, with the clock sweeping through the passage of time on the tower overhead. The door is slightly ajar today. Last time they'd had to break in. 

Harry leads the way up the path past the door and off among the graves. As they walk he points a couple out. 

"That one over there, that's where Dumbledore's mum and sister are buried. And, oh, do you remember that story from when you were little? The Tale of Three Brothers?"

Albus walks up to him, picking his way through the grass. "Of course I remember. Everyone knows that story."

"Yeah, well this here," Harry gestures to another grave. "This is Ignotus Peverell. He's supposed to have been the third brother. We're related to him, somehow. And this over here..." He walks a couple of rows further back then stops, beckoning Albus with him. 

"Grandma and Granddad?" Albus asks, walking up beside him. 

Harry nods.

It's a low, white, marble headstone that seems to shine in the pale light of this silvery grey day. There's no moss or lichen on it. It's perfectly clean, well looked after, the words on it easily readable.

 

_James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981_

_Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981_

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

 

"We should have brought flowers," Albus says quietly. 

"Normally, when I've come before, I conjure them," Harry tells him. 

Albus stares down at the grave. "I might set the whole churchyard on fire if I try that." 

"No you won't," Harry says confidently, looking across at him. "Here, we can do it together." He draws his wand. A little reluctantly, Albus does the same. 

"Do you know how to-" Harry starts, but Albus cuts him off. 

"Orchideous," he says, waving his wand in a little circle. He's gifted with a pair of big, bright yellow sunflowers that drift into his hand. "It did work!" He gives a tiny little smile. "They're not very good though. Maybe you should..."

"No," Harry says enthusiastically. "They're great. Go on." 

For a second Albus hesitates, glancing down at the flowers, then he takes a step forward.

The only other grave he's been to was Astoria's, at her funeral, so he doesn't really know what to do. Draco had stood there perfectly still, back straight, for a very long time before walking away. Scorpius had been all jittery and unsure, but in the end he'd knelt down and touched the ground where she'd just been buried. But that was Astoria. What do you do for grandparents?

He stands there for a long moment just looking at the grave, then finally he kneels down on the grass and lays the flowers right at the bottom of the headstone. He bows his head and thinks about how wonderful Lily had looked as she left the house, the slightly confused smile on her face when he'd waved at her in the street, how desperate he'd felt to talk to her. He thinks about James conjuring smoke rings, Harry laughing and trying to grab at them, and about how he'd always hated having Harry's hair but somehow discovering it was James's hair too made him feel a bit better about it. He thinks about the way they'd both desperately defended Harry with their lives. He thinks about how he'd told Harry he would have liked to get to know them. He'd meant it. Because somehow it is possible to miss someone you've never known. 

Harry crouches down beside him, and reaches silently across to place a cluster of white lilies next to the sunflowers. Albus glances across at him, but can't see anything beyond the reflection of white marble in his dad's glasses, so he looks back at the stone, at the inscription on it. 

"What does it mean?" he asks after a moment. "Those words..."

Harry lifts his head. "Embracing death," he says. "That's what they did. Their sacrifice... The only way to beat it is to accept it."

Albus nods slowly, then takes a breath. "Dad? I-I still wish I could have met them properly." 

"Yeah," Harry murmurs. "Me too." 

They kneel there in silence for a little while until Albus starts to shiver and they feel spots of rain starting to freckle their faces. That's when they get up and take shelter inside the church.

It looks just the way it did in 1981. Almost disconcertingly so. Maybe the floors have been retiled, and maybe the organ pipes are a little bit of a brighter gold, but other than that everything is the same. The pews are lined up in the same regimented rows. There are still candles flickering on what seems like every surface. The rose window is still sending sparkling colour dancing down the aisle. Up near the front of the church a pair of doors stand closed on either side of the transept. It's been years, but it could have been yesterday.

"I thought it'd have changed a bit..." Harry says, looking around. 

Albus nods. "It makes me half expect Delphi to walk in and-"

"Don't even joke about that," Harry says darkly. He takes a deep breath, like he's steeling himself, then sets off walking up the nave, hands in his pockets, looking around. "They did a good job cleaning up from our fight. I mean. They've had a while but... There were scorch marks all over this pillar and they're all gone now." 

Albus walks down the side of the church, running a hand over the pews as he passes. This is the one where Scorpius nearly fell asleep while they were waiting for Delphi. This is the one Albus had been sitting on when they were talking about who should be Voldemort. This is the one Harry had crawled under during the fight. 

"You fell asleep over here," Harry says, pointing to one of the pews on the other side of the church. "I-I was glad you did. You deserved a rest after everything..."

"It was a bit difficult, sleeping on the floor outside," Albus says, pausing to look at a collection of prayer candles. Only a couple are lit. "Especially since it was snowing. I think I'd been awake for almost two days by then. I've never been..." He sighs. "I've never been happier to see you. And Mum. That was when I knew it would be okay."

Harry frowns and walks across the front of the church until he's standing in the light flooding through the rose window. "Did you really trust us that much? Even after everything?"

Albus nods and joins him in the red and gold rays. "You're Harry Potter. If there's one person you want with you in a fight..." 

That earns him a little smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Not sure that's always true."

"You're the best Auror in a generation," Albus says. "That's what all the papers say." 

"Half the time," Harry says lightly. "The rest of the time they think I'm a disgrace." 

Albus grins. "If only they could make up their minds." He wanders away across the church, moving to examine the door they'd hidden behind during the fight, but halfway across something catches his eye. The grate in the floor. Dark, slightly rusted iron, a curlicue design, dark dusty space beneath. He looks up at his dad and gestures down at it. "I don't think I could fit through anymore."

Harry looks across at him. He's still standing in that patch of stained glass sunlight, the colours of the Sacred Heart glowing across his face. "Was that the grate you...?"

Albus nods. 

Harry walks over and stands next to him. They both look down at it. 

"I'm glad you got through before. If you hadn't, I-" 

A warm hand settles on Albus's shoulder and he glances up to see his dad staring intently into the darkness. 

"You saved my life that night. A-at least twice."

Albus nudges him very gently. "You saved ours too."

Harry shakes his head. "No. The Time-Turner, that was Draco. And the blanket... I didn't do anything. I just showed up for a duel I lost, and..."

"You didn't stop Voldemort though," Albus says. "You could have done. You could have warned Grandma and Granddad. So-so you did save us. Really. You saved all of us."

Harry slides an arm round his shoulders. "There was a moment I thought she was going to kill you. She tried. If I'd lost you..."

"You didn't though," Albus says, hugging him back. 

"I know. I don't think I could have stood to lose another one of my family to this place."

They stand there with their arms round each other, looking down at the grate in the floor. Eventually someone else wanders into the church and they break apart and go and get lunch in the pub. Through the window Albus can see the war memorial, the one Scorpius has told him transforms into the statue of Lily, James, and Harry. Even though he can't actually see the statue he still can't stop looking at it. 

This place is so full of the past,  just enough to be distracting. Uncomfortable. And he thinks his dad might feel the same because he leaves the last of his chips and doesn't even complain when Albus steals them. 

After lunch they go out into the square, and Albus walks curiously across to the statue. Harry lingers by the pub, like he doesn't want to go closer, and Albus glances back at him. 

"Are you coming?" 

For a moment Harry hesitates, then he steps forward with a nod. "Yeah. I-I've just never really... Never really got used to the statue. It feels a bit weird. I didn't even know it was here for years. I was famous before I even knew who I was, you know? But it's nice someone wanted to remember your grandparents... Sometimes I wonder if there are people here who knew them, who I could talk to about them..." 

"Why didn't you ask?" Albus stops in front of the war memorial and looks up at it. In front of his eyes it starts to change shape, until standing right in front of him is the statue of Lily and James, and baby Harry who sits cradled in his mother's arms. 

Harry shrugs. "I think the Muggles think I'm dead. It'd be strange if their long lost son showed up and started asking about them. No I... I just have to live with the memories I've got. Not that I have many, but..." He scratches the back of his neck and gazes up at them. "It's a good likeness, isn't it?" 

Albus smiles. "They got your dad's hair right. It's just like ours."

"I'm still sorry about that," Harry says, glancing at him. "That you inherited that from me. It's a nightmare."

"I don't think I'd have suited red hair," Albus replies.

"I-I'm glad you got our eyes though. Mine and Lily's."

"Me too."

They grin at each other for a second. The reflection of the overcast sky is making Harry's eyes darker than usual, less bright emerald, more the colour of summer leaves. Deep, and healthy, and warm. 

"Dad?" Albus says. "Do you remember that time I-I told you I wished you weren't, you know, weren't my dad?"

Harry looks down at the ground, grey clouds throwing shadows over his face as they scud in front of the pale sun. "I'm not sure I could forget, Albus."

Albus takes a step toward him. "I-I didn't mean it. I was trying to- I don't know what. But... I never said sorry. And I hope you know that... That I'm really happy you're my dad. It isn't always easy but... I wouldn't want anyone else." 

"I know," Harry says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And I'm sorry I made things harder." 

Albus nods, then pulls away and gestures up the street. "Do you think we should go to the house now?" 

Harry takes one last look up at the statue, then takes a deep breath. "Yeah. I can't put it off any longer."

"We don't have to if-"

"There's not much point being here if we don't visit the house, is there?" Harry says, just a little too cheerful. 

"I suppose not." 

Albus keeps pace beside his dad down the street. Every now and again he glances across at him. There's a little frown on his face, and he keeps running a hand through his hair and fiddling with the buttons on his coat. Finally Albus reaches out and links arms with him. Harry tenses slightly and looks at him, and Albus shoots him a little smile that's meant to be reassuring but might just be shaky and nervous.

"We can do this." 

Harry's shoulders relax, and he gives Albus's arm a gentle squeeze. 

The house is on the end of the row. It's immediately obvious because unlike the other houses in the street the hedge has grown wild, and the ivy crawling over the walls is unchecked. And it's half gone. A big chunk blown out of the side of the upper floor. In the front garden the grass is unkempt and scattered with bits of rubble. Even last time it hadn't looked like this, unloved and abandoned. It had still been a family home right until the end, a little cottage with a Jack O' Lantern in the window, that sparkled light and life out into the night. Now it's dark and empty.

Albus grips his dad's arm tightly. "Why does no one take care of it?"

"It's not a home anymore," Harry says quietly. "It's a memorial or something... I-I don't know. I wish they did. I liked how it looked, last time we were here, before anything happened."

"It looked like a good place to grow up," Albus murmurs. 

Harry inhales sharply. "Yeah, it... It did... It..." He trails off, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He's trembling slightly, and Albus sees tears begin to leak from his eyes. 

"Dad," he says, letting go of Harry's arm and hugging him round the middle instead. "I'm sorry, I- That was a stupid thing to say."

Harry sniffs and quickly wipes his eyes. "No, no. You're right it- it looked good. Makes me wonder what life would have been like if... But this is how things are, and I can't complain much." He gives Albus a shaky little smile and reaches out to ruffle his hair. Albus ducks away, pulling a face, and Harry laughs, quiet and a bit snuffly. 

"You know," he says after a moment, looking up at the house. "Every time I come here it makes things better. Somehow. It's never easy, but..." 

"What about last time?" Albus asks. "Last time... Last time you were only here because I got into trouble. And you had to watch..." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the destroyed upper floor. 

"Yeah, but I got you out of last time," Harry says. "I didn't have that before, with all the fights and... It was nearly losing you that- I'd rather die than lose you. That's how my mum and dad felt about me. That's why they- I never really understood before that night. I..." He scratches his head and looks at Albus. "I learned a lot that night. And it made things better. Didn't it?"

Albus nods and flashes him a smile. "Eventually."

Harry softens into a smile too, expression warming, eyes brightening. Overhead there's a little break in the clouds and some pale, silver sunlight breaks through. It even makes the house look a little less dismal. 

"Can I show you something?" he asks, stepping toward the house and beckoning Albus with him. "This might be a bit- I think it's cool." He touches the gate, which is rusted, bits of weeds and ivy growing through it. As he does, a sign rises up from the ground. In gold lettering on it is a dedication to the Potter family, but around that the sign is almost black with ink.

"People leave messages," Harry says, genuinely enthusiastic. "They're for me, so you might not... But sometimes it's nice knowing people care, you know? I-I understand if you think it's-"

"No," Albus says, leaning forward to read some of the words. "I like it. It's nice that people care so much." He glances up at Harry. "I used to think you got too much praise but... This is good. And these are nice. Look... 'Lily and James, you're still missed', 'Harry, you're the greatest Auror ever', I don't know about that one..." Albus grins at his dad. 

Harry comes up beside him and they peer at the sign together, trying to decipher the words past all the years and years of messages. Reading out their favourites ones, laughing about some, others bringing tears to their eyes. 

They stand in front of the house for what must be a suspiciously long time to any passing Muggle, but neither really cares. Now they're here it's difficult to want to leave. There's something about this place, even though it hurts, that knits them together. It brings them alongside the rest of their lost family. It's like being wrapped up in a little bubble of connection across time, where despite death they can feel Lily and James beside them. And every time Albus looks up at his dad there's a smile on his sunlit face, and Albus is happy too. In fact, he isn't quite sure why he never agreed to come here before. It hasn't been nearly so bad as he expected.

They finish the day walking away down the street, Albus chattering about Bathilda Bagshot and how much of a geek Scorpius had been around her, and when they turn away into darkness his warm glow of happiness means he barely feels the cold of Apparition at all. 


End file.
